Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 113: The Heart of the Field

Chapter 113: The Heart of the Field

Morning light spilled across the gravel path like melted gold, brushing softly against the fields as Billy and Artur stepped out together.

Artur adjusted the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder, nudging Billy with his elbow.

"Still thinking about the call?" he asked, his tone gentle, no pressure behind the question.

Billy let out a breath. "Not really. Just... sorting things in my head."

They walked in silence for a few seconds before Artur tilted his head toward the fields ahead.

"Mr. Tomas will make us clean tools again if we’re late."

Billy gave a soft laugh, eyes flicking sideways. "Then let’s not give him the chance."

Their steps fell into rhythm, boots crunching faintly over the stone-covered path.

As they neared the gate leading out to the fields, two familiar figures stood waiting.

Jay had his arms crossed, leaning lazily against a post, while Mark stood beside him, half-shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Well, look who finally decided to wake up," Jay called out, a teasing grin pulling at his lips.

Artur raised a brow. "We’re on time. You’re just too early."

Mark chuckled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Jay insisted. Said he didn’t want to ’miss the golden hour.’ Whatever that means."

Jay shrugged dramatically. "It means this village has the best light, and I like my skin glowing."

Billy laughed, shaking his head. "You’re unbelievable."

Jay leaned forward slightly, eyes dancing. "You love it."

Artur stepped past them, patting Jay’s shoulder. "Come on, golden boy. Let’s get to work before Tomas locks the shed."

Jay groaned but followed. "Slave driver."

Billy lingered for a moment, watching Jay and Mark banter ahead. He glanced at Artur beside him—so steady, so present—and reached for his hand briefly, giving it a small squeeze.

Artur turned toward him, their eyes locking for a quiet second.

"Whatever happens today," Billy said under his breath, "thanks for just... being here."

"You don’t have to thank me," Artur replied, voice low. "I’m right where I want to be."

With that, they followed the others toward the open field, the rising sun casting long shadows behind them.

The morning fog had just begun to lift when they reached Mr. Tomas’s field, where rows of tall green stalks swayed gently under the breeze.

The air was fresh with the scent of soil and dew, and the sun hadn’t yet grown harsh.

Mr. Tomas was already there, crouched near the rows with gloves on, inspecting a cluster of sprouting weeds.

He looked up as they approached, waving a gloved hand.

"About time. Thought the city boys wouldn’t make it today."

Mark gave a tired grin. "Almost didn’t. Jay kept me hostage over tea."

Jay scoffed. "It was ginger tea and I saved your soul. You’re welcome."

Mr. Tomas chuckled, standing to dust off his knees. "Good. Since your soul’s safe, you can get to weeding with the rest of us."

Artur dropped his bag to the side and rolled up his sleeves. "What’s the plan?"

"Start from the far end," Tomas gestured. "Clear the beds, check for pests. Careful with the root systems—don’t be yanking things blindly."

They split up into pairs. Artur and Billy headed toward the lower rows, while Jay and Mark worked the stretch closer to the fence.

The field was quiet except for rustling leaves, soft shoveling, and the occasional birdcall.

Billy crouched, gloved hands working steadily through the soil. "I keep forgetting how calming this is," he murmured.

Artur glanced over. "It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t ask anything from you. Just lets you be."

Billy smiled faintly. "Exactly."

Further up the row, Mark stood, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist.

He looked over at Jay, who had one hand in the dirt and the other raised as if giving a dramatic speech to a plant.

"You’re not talking to them again, are you?"

Jay straightened with flair. "Plants thrive on praise. I read that somewhere. Might’ve been a shampoo bottle."

Mark snorted. "You’re lucky Tomas isn’t here to hear that."

Jay turned back to the soil, a smirk playing on his lips. "Please. Tomas loves me. I’m the only one who doesn’t trample his beans."

As time passed, the banter softened into focused work.

The sun climbed higher, casting shadows under their arms and soft sweat across their foreheads.

At one point, Artur stretched his back, sighing. "Almost done with this row."

Billy leaned back on his heels, pushing sweat-matted hair from his forehead. "You think Tomas ever takes a day off?"

Artur gave him a side glance. "Only when the weather forces him. And even then, he sulks."

Jay’s voice floated over from a few meters away. "I’m starting to suspect he’s part-root."

Mark added dryly, "At least he doesn’t talk to the cucumbers."

They all shared a quiet laugh, the kind that fit easily between work and air.

Soon, Mr. Tomas reappeared, surveying the neat rows. "Well done," he nodded. "Could’ve taken the whole day, but you four made it look easy."

Jay wiped his hands on a rag. "We aim to impress."

Tomas pointed to a small shaded area under a nearby tree. "Break’s over there. I left a thermos. You’ve earned it."

The four of them moved toward the shade, limbs tired but light with satisfaction.

As they sat down, Billy took a sip from the shared thermos and looked around at the quiet field, the sun flickering through the branches above.

"This," he murmured, the weight of the sun and silence settling in his chest, "feels like the kind of morning I’ll still remember years from now—even when everything else fades."

Artur glanced at him, lips curved. "Then remember it."

The shade beneath the old tree felt like a pocket of peace, the branches above rustling softly with the wind.

They sat in a loose circle—boots dusty, arms tired, hearts light in that quiet lull between work and the next hour.

Jay took another sip from the thermos and leaned back on his elbows. "I swear, one day Tomas is going to chain us to the field."

Mark raised a brow. "You say that like you don’t secretly enjoy this."

Jay gave a sideways grin. "Maybe. But I’m not giving him the satisfaction."

Billy wiped his brow with the edge of his sleeve, then looked across at Mark. "You used to live here, right?"

Mark nodded, his expression softening with something unspoken. "Yeah. Until I was twelve. Then my dad got promoted and... city life swallowed us whole."

Artur glanced over. "Do you miss it?"

There was a pause. Mark looked down at his hands. "Sometimes. Mostly I missed how quiet it was.

The air. The way the stars looked at night." He shrugged, trying to mask the weight behind the words. "But life moves forward."

Jay, unusually quiet, tapped his fingers on the thermos before saying, "You don’t seem like the city changed you much."

Mark smirked. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you still talk like someone who knows how to patch a fence and curse the weather at the same time," Jay said, lips twitching. "In a charming way."

Mark scoffed, but didn’t deny it.

Billy chuckled quietly, eyes on the horizon. "The city feels like a different planet. I keep thinking if I go back, I’ll just float away."

Jay turned his gaze to him, something unreadable in his look. "You ever think about it? Going back?"

There was a brief pause before Billy answered. "Only when I have to.

But this—" he gestured lightly toward the fields, the tree, the dusty trail beyond— "this feels more like home than anything I can remember."

Artur watched him closely, a proud softness in his eyes, though he said nothing.

Jay shifted his focus, picking up a small stone and tossing it in his palm. "City or village, I think it’s about who you’re with. That’s what makes it feel like home."

Mark hummed low in his throat. "Didn’t think you were the poetic type."

Jay shrugged. "I have layers."

They all laughed gently at that, and the silence that followed was comfortable, stretching long and slow beneath the branches.

Leaves danced in the breeze above, casting dappled shadows on their faces.

In that moment, none of them were thinking about what waited beyond this day—just the warmth of the earth, the presence of each other, and the stillness that came from doing something real.

Billy leaned his head lightly on Artur’s shoulder.

"Maybe I’ll write this down someday," he murmured.

Artur looked at him. "If you do, don’t forget this part."

Billy smiled. "I won’t."

The sun had started its slow descent, casting golden warmth across the open path as the group made their way back from the fields.

The wind had gentled, brushing through the tall grass like a whisper, and their shadows stretched long behind them.

Jay slung his empty water flask over one shoulder and nudged Mark with his elbow.

"So when’s your stand-up debut? You’ve been frowning all day—perfect material for tragic comedy."

Mark rolled his eyes. "If I ever end up doing comedy, it’ll be because someone blackmailed me."

"You two should start a show," Billy said, his voice light as he kicked a small pebble down the path.

"Honestly. Half the time it sounds like banter, the other half like you’re about to get married."

Jay raised his brows with a smirk. "Now there’s a thought. I’d call it ’Frown & Clown.’ Guess who’s who."

Mark didn’t look at him, just muttered dryly, "I’d pay people not to watch."

The group burst into laughter—Billy nearly stumbling from how hard he laughed, and Artur, smiling softly, glanced over at him with a fond shake of his head.

"Frown and Clown?" Mark repeated, mock-disbelief in his tone. "You’ve been holding onto that one, haven’t you?"

Jay shrugged, casual and smug. "I have a whole list. Wanna hear the next?"

"Absolutely not."

Billy leaned back against Artur slightly as they walked. "If I ever need cheering up, I’m locking you both in a room and recording it."

"You’ll be rich," Artur added, grinning.

Jay ran a hand through his hair, then turned to Mark, voice a little softer now, watching him closely. "You’re smiling."

Mark glanced down, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You’re imagining things."

"Am I?" Jay asked, soft now.

Mark didn’t answer. But he didn’t look away either.

"You were—just now. For like two seconds."

"Must’ve been a glitch."

Jay chuckled under his breath. "Well, I liked it."

There was a brief pause, the kind that lingers just enough to suggest something else beneath the surface. Mark didn’t reply. Not right away.

But he didn’t look away either.

The sound of their footsteps filled the silence that followed—four sets walking in rhythm, Warm dirt beneath their boots, rooftops peeking just beyond the hill."

Billy glanced up at the sky, brushing hair from his eyes. "Days like this feel too peaceful. Like something big is waiting."

Artur’s hand lightly touched his back. "Then we make the most of the quiet."

And they kept walking, laughter still faint in the air, shoulders brushing, teasing drifting back and forth like sunlight dancing through trees. Home wasn’t far.

But for now, the path was enough.